


Carve It in Stone

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [54]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Ryan’s gotten sloppy since Trevor’s been dead.





	Carve It in Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Anon who wanted to see Red Hood Trevor from my [Batman AU idea???](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666224/chapters/43057859)

Ryan’s gotten sloppy since Trevor’s been dead.

Trevor can’t tell if Ryan’s doing it on purpose, daring all of Gotham to realize he’s not joking when he flashes that charming little smile of his and laughs that annoying idiot laugh. 

Winks at the camera – always one of those around him, he’s a _Haywood_ after all – and claims he really is the Batman, why are you all laughing?

There are so many – so fucking many – video and audio clips from interviews or press conferences surrounding some crisis or other where he just up and _confesses_.

Over and over again, with all these jokes and _ha, ha, ha_ , and a little put out that no one ever seems to believe him.

Not that anyone would consider Richie-rich Ryan James Haywood could be capable of a fraction of the things the Batman’s done. (Most think he can’t even tie his own damn shoes without help.)

And when he’s not baiting the press, all of Gotham, he’s just.

Careless.

So many clues he leaves behind about Batman’s identity, why it’s almost like he wants to get caught.

“Idiot,” Trevor says, little twinge of something that might have been fondness once upon a time. 

Before Joker and his crowbar, glaring red numbers counting down and everything that followed after. (The waters of the Pit burning, searing, remaking him into whatever he is now.)

Now - 

It feels like bitterness, resentment. This flare of anger as Trevor looks up and sees all the photos pinned to the wall of his safehouse.

Batman and Robin swinging over the rooftops of Gotham like everything before it didn’t matter. Like Ryan didn’t learn a damn thing when Trevor died. Making the same mistakes over and over again, and someone needs to do something about that, don’t they.

So.

Better get to it.

========

The new Robin is fast, Trevor will give him that.

Quick little bastard and clever about it, flips and rolls and flares of his cape – bright flash of color against Gotham’s gloom – and the usual thugs and bruisers always, always go for it.

Take the bait and turn and aim, _bang, bang, bang_ always a step behind because again, the kid’s fast.

Smart-mouthed too, even if he’s not quite up to par with Jeremy and his comedic timing. Snappy one-liners and zings. 

Trevor watches it all from a nearby rooftop. Robin up against a couple of goons who tried mugging some little old lady out waling her ankle biter of a dog.

Sound of his bo staff cracking against a jaw, the strangled bellow and sound of a grown man falling to his knees in pain. Stunned as he cradles what’s sure to be a fracture of some sort and that’s interesting, isn’t it, when Ryan had come down so hard on Trevor that one time.

Robin backpedals as the second thug thunders towards him, big and imposing and furious after seeing his friend go down.

Rolls out of the way of a booted foot aimed at his kneecap – flash and whirl of his cape – stylized shuriken flying out from behind it as he buys himself a little time, some space. Meaty sound of one of them embedding itself in the thug’s arm and a _snarl_ coming from him like a wounded dog.

“You fucker!”

Trevor snorts, taps the barrel of his gun against his leg as Robin shoots the thug a look – offended, almost – and then he’s moving forward. 

Bo snapping out as the thug raises his gun, blood dripping from his arm, and smacks it away like an afterthought. Follows up with another strike of his bo – glancing hit – and pursues the thug who’s the one trying to retreat now. 

Snapping and snarling and hopelessly outclassed, he never sees the kick aimed at his jaw, too focused on the damn bo staff Robin uses as a distraction. Flash and spin, streetlights catching off the gleaming metal and Robin’s a vicious bastard too, it seems.

Stands over the thug for a long moment, and prods him to make sure he’s not feigning unconsciousness before he gets out the zip ties. 

It would be easy, Trevor knows, to teach him a lesson right now.

Drop down from his vantage spot and drive the point home with his fists, heel of his boot. Wing the little bastard with a bullet from his gun. Ooh, or maybe he could use one of the knives Talia gifted him with as a parting gift he hasn’t had the chance to use just yet.

_But._

It’s too soon.

Ryan doesn’t even know there’s a new player in town yet. 

Just goes about business as usual, punching and kicking (occasionally gadgeting) the bad guys into groaning piles of bruised and battered and sending them back to Blackgate or Arkham as the situation warrants. 

Goes off to play with the Justice League when there’s a major crisis every so often.

Baits the press with that running gag about being Batman – it’s appalling, really, how he still gets away with that – and thinks his little world here is _safe_.

Well.

Safe as it could be, given Gotham’s very nature.

Thinks he’s got it all under control, has thought up every possibly scenario and planned accordingly with all those contingency plans of his.

Paranoid as all hell and still, Trevor knows, still so damned blind.

“Next time,” Trevor says, tossing off a little salute to Gotham’s little songbird as he heads off to really get things rolling.

========

Black Mask is easy.

Smarter than most, sure, but when it comes down to it he’s still predictable.

Ego to him because he’s the _Black Mask_.

Everyone in Gotham knows who he is, what he does to those who make an enemy of him, and it’s made him...not quite complacent, but he’s certainly lost whatever edge got him where he is today.

Makes it easy for Trevor to disrupt his operations, swing his attention away from all his goals and ambitions and this new figure in the shiny metal helmet. (Helmet, hood, it’s all semantics, isn’t it?)

Has him focusing on Trevor and the way he’s dismantling everything he’s built up on the bones of others. (Bone and flesh and blood, human suffering and this dark spark Trevor gets now. Has buried deep in him too thanks to the Pit and what it gave him, curled in the back of his mind and whispering to him always.)

And Ryan? He’s just as easy.

Notices the way Black Mask is just so agitated these days, fending off attacks and so, so angry at this new figure looking to make an example of him and his.

Throwing money and every available body he has at Trevor to make him go away, and Ryan just has to stick his nose into things. Needs to know what’s going on to cause Black Mask’s little breakdown-in-progress.

_Perfect_.

========

“Look at you,” Trevor says, chuckles at the way Ryan’s glaring at him. “New suit?”

More heavily armored than the one he wore when it was Trevor at his side all those years ago. 

Meaner looking.

Voices drift up to them, yelling and shouting and all sorts of commotion.

Ryan’s silent.

Still.

Stoic is the word that comes to mind.

Standing across the roof from Trevor in all his Battish glory, bit of a breeze playing with the hem of his cape. (Gotham is almost as dramatic as certain residents.)

All kinds of tech and gadgets on him because he’s the Batman, and that’s part of his shtick. Almost certainly recording their conversation to analyze once he gets back to that little clubhouse of his under the manor.

Trevor hums, nods his head because yes, yes, still the same stubborn bastard as always, Ryan.

Childhood trauma and far too much money, and anyone else would be dead by now if they’d tried the same thing as the idiot before him.

Traveling the world to train, hone his body and mind into this _weapon_ to combat the sort of depraved monsters who left him an orphan. 

Oh, he would never think of it like that. 

Would insist it’s a noble endeavor he set off on all those years before, long before Trevor was even born. That he’s doing it to protect the people of Gotham, prevent the same from happening to them. (The dark knight the press and so many others refer to him as, and still so blind.)

Takes in orphans and urchins, gives them a home and a purpose. 

A suit and a cape and utility belt with all the latest gadgets, and if they’re lucky, if they’re good, they get to live. If not...well.

You get things like Trevor, don’t you.

All twisted up inside, _wrong_ in all the right ways. (Or perhaps it’s the other way around?)

However you want to look at it, you get something like Trevor, and when you put him back in a city like Gotham with people like Ryan and all his mistakes, it’s not going to be a pretty thing.

No, not pretty at all.

Trevor snorts, turning to look down at the burning warehouse below them as emergency crews scramble to contain the fire.

Someone’s screaming.

One of Black Mask’s men suffering from nasty third-degree burns on top of what Trevor did to him to get the answers he needed.

Ryan interfered before Trevor could put the poor bastard out of his misery, more’s the pity. 

He’ll die slow now. Pain eased by whatever drugs they pump into him, but Trevor and Ryan both know he won’t make it through the night.

Thank God Ryan saved the man from a bullet to the head only to drag out his death longer than it needs to be.

(Such is mercy..)

“Good talk,” Trevor says, suddenly in no mood to deal with Ryan or his codes, his morals and ethics and goddamned high horse right now. “I’m sure we’ll be doing this again.”

He keeps his voice light, playful, lets the voice modulator do its job to add another layer of complication to things for Ryan, and pulls a small remote out of his jacket pocket.

Holds it up for Ryan to see, waggles it a little, thumb hovering over the big red button.

Watches as Ryan finally reacts, starts to move, but Trevor’s just that tiniest bit faster.

Presses the button and gone in the moment it takes Ryan to decide on an action, the small charges he set earlier going off further down the street.

Big flashy things meant as distractions because Trevor’s a monster, yes, but his grudge isn’t against Gotham’s emergency crews. 

Still, Ryan doesn’t know that yet, and he goes for the bait.

Spends a split-second too long agonizing over whether to pursue Trevor before a secondary explosion goes off and the choice is made for him.

Noble endeavors and Duty, and Ryan’s still so predictable.

========

The thing that absolutely kills Trevor about all of this is how stupid Ryan is.

“You get what I mean, don’t you?”

Robin is watching Trevor like he thinks Trevor’s a lunatic.

He’s not wrong, so Trevor lets him have that one.

But really.

Ryan’s goes around playing the role of Ryan Haywood, richie-rich and possibly stupidest man alive just so no one will twig to the fact he’s also Batman.

Big scary asshole in a suit and cape and all his little gadgets and smart as he is, he’s so damn stupid.

“Joker’s still out there!” Trevor yells, and okay that, that is what’s at the heart of this. “That bastard is still out there killing people and what does Batman do about it?”

Fights him again and again and again, just to send him back to Arkham until the next time he breaks out to start the cycle over.

And it’s not just Joker, it’s every other asshole like him. 

It never ends because Ryan is too blinded by all his ideals and morals, his ethics.

_Privilege_.

Joker is out there right now, some new twisted plot playing out while Ryan runs himself ragged trying to stop him. So, so stupid and look what Trevor found while Ryan’s attention is elsewhere?

Little (not so little) Robin all on his lonesome and easy pickings.

Trevor’s not angry at Ryan for not saving him from Joker in time.

No.

That’s not what this is about. It’s never been what it’s about. (Even if there’s some small part of him that wonders _why_. What he did wrong that Ryan didn’t save him when he kills himself for complete strangers night after night, but he knows, doesn’t he. Trevor was never enough, and that’s fine. It is.)

Ryan let the Joker live.

Put him back in Arkham and just went on like that bastard hadn’t taught him a valuable lesson by killing Trevor.

Went and got himself a new Robin, even.

Bright young man and potential to him Ryan’s sure to ruin before long.

Feisty.

Put up quite the fight when Trevor found him, but Trevor’s been at this longer. (Trained with assassins, and hadn’t that been an eye-opener.)

Plays dirtier than the Batman’s good little sidekick. 

Fights mean and nasty, plays for keeps.

“We don’t kill,” Robin says, parrots Batman’s line as though Trevor’s never heard it before, like he doesn’t _know_. 

Trevor laughs, but there’s nothing like amusement in it.

“Oh, I know all about that,” he says, because Ryan’s an idiot.

So here, Ryan, have a little refresher while you’re gallivanting about being a hero.

Robin’s all trussed up at the moment, and while Trevor knows it’s only a matter of time before he frees himself - 

“Might want to rethink your career path,” Trevor says, and shoots him.

He sees Robin’s eyes widen in the moment before he fires, and it’s not personal this, not really.

It’s Ryan and his choices, the mistakes he never learns from. (Tough love, minus the love.)

Robin sags in his chains – because Gotham and its Drama, _presentation_ \- and Trevor goes over to check on him.

Purses his lips when he sees his suit did its job in stopping the bullet. The impact was a doozy this close, though, wasn’t it. Knocked him back, head cracking against the wall he’s bound to, put him out like a light. (Easy.)

Trevor pats his cheek, smiles to cover up the uneasiness he feels seeing a Robin like this, echoes of a dream or something along those lines. 

(A living nightmare and a crowbar bearing down on him, Joker’s grating laughter and pain bleeding into everything.)

A perimeter alarm goes off, and Trevor glances over at the laptop he has set up. Cobbled together warning system to let him know Ryan finally noticed Robin had gone silent on him, came to investigate. 

Watches Gotham’s hero miss every damn camera he placed in his haste and wants to laugh because lord knows Trevor always got an earful about that kind of mistake during his time as Robin. 

“Oh, Ryan,” he sighs. “No gold star for you.”

Still.

Best not be around when Ryan makes it past all the traps and other fun things Trevor left out for him. 

Let the bastard stew a little longer once he gets Robin back. 

Wonder why the Red Hood bothered with any of this, why he didn’t just kill Robin while he had the chance. (Why, why, why, and no answers to any of it, not yet.)

Trevor shoots the laptop, lips stretching into a thin smile because Ryan’s going to have a hell of a time getting anything out of it now.

Not impossible, because he has all his gadgets and tech wizardry at his beck and call – has Oracle – but it’s going to cost him time. Effort. Have him working overtime to pull anything useful out of what’s on the hard drive when Trevor’s never been that stupid.

Leaving him bread crumbs that Ryan will have to work for if he wants to find out what the Red Hood’s planning.

“Good luck with that one, Ryan,” Trevor says as he turns to leave because it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Don't Dream (Don't Even Think)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761074) by [CaptainKaysno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainKaysno/pseuds/CaptainKaysno), [missingnolovefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic)




End file.
